David Lockwin—The People's Idol eBook

“Please take me home and send for Dr. Tarpion,”
she says, relapsing into lethargy.

Men seize David Lockwin, for he is bleeding profusely.

“He terrifies her!” they exclaim.
They wash his forehead. He has a long cut over
the brow.

Work fast as he may with court-plaster Esther is carried
forth before the druggist can be in front to aid.
People are full of praise for the heroic man.

“But he won’t be no prettier for it,”
say the gossips of the neighborhood.

CHAPTER X

ESTHER AS A LIBERAL PATRON

Esther Lockwin has been confined to her room for a
month by Dr. Tarpion’s orders. The servants
say she will not enter a carriage again.

David Lockwin has hired an extra clerk, and is daily
under a surgeon’s hands. After six months
of suffering he is promised a removal of the red fimbrications;
his nose shall be re-erected; his throat shall be
reasonably cleared.

He lies on his cot, and Corkey is a frequent visitor.

“You wa’n’t no prize beauty, that’s
a fact,” says the candid Corkey. “I
think you’re wise, but I’d never a did
it. You’ve got as much grit as a tattooed
man. Them fellers, the doctors, picks you with
electric needles, don’t they? Yes, I thought
so. Well, I suppose that’s nothing side
of setting up your nose. But she sets up there
like a hired man—­you’ve got a good
nob now! Yes, I’m deep in politics again.
I’m a fool—­I know it, but I don’t
spend more’n five hundred cases, and I go to
the legislature sure. If I get there some of
these corporations that knocked me out afore will
squeal—­you hear me! No, you don’t
spend no money on me. I wish you could git out
and hustle, though. But you ain’t no hustler,
nohow. Want any drug laws passed?”

Corkey must do the greater part of the talking.
He sits beside the bed carrying an atmosphere of
sympathy that the feverish lover needs. Gradually
the thoughts of the sympathizer fix on the glass graduate.
It tickles his membranes. His head quakes, his
tongue whirs, he jars the great bottles outside with
his sneeze.

The tears start from his eyes, his throat rebels at
its misusage, his big red handkerchief comes out.
It makes a sharp contrast with his jet black hair
and mustache.

“Old man,” he said, “do you suppose
your bone-sawers could cut that out of me? It
makes me forgit things sometimes. Oh, yes, yes!
That puts me in mind! I came to tell you this
morning that Mrs. Lockwin was coming over to thank
you!”

“It’s time,” whispers the lover,
bravely.

“I told her to come on. She needn’t
be afraid of you. I tell you she was mighty
glad when I tell her you was a friend of mine.”

There is a click at the door-latch. The patient
starts. Corkey looks out into the store.

“Here she is!” whispers Corkey, smoothing
the coverlet. “How d’ye do, Mrs.
Lockwin? Just step in here. Mr. Chalmers
is not able to sit up.”